


Lonely Hawke

by OtakuElf



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-15
Updated: 2013-03-04
Packaged: 2017-11-16 09:25:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/537952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OtakuElf/pseuds/OtakuElf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I can't figure out how Hawke ended up so outgoing, what with all the hiding.  Working my way through some thoughts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Suggestions are requested before I go anywhere with this. If I do go anywhere with it...

Hawke wanted it. She wanted it badly. At twenty some years of age and the mage had never had a lover, never even had a sweetheart. Every year she looked at her life, mostly in hiding or on the run with her family, and there was no one. There had only ever been her family. Well, now that her father and Bethany were dead, there was only Mother and Carver. Hawke refused to count Uncle Gamlen. There was no way she could talk to any of them about … well, sex. Or loneliness.

Marion Hawke loved her brother, in spite of all their quarrels, but she was not going to be able to talk about loneliness to him. For one thing, Carver had lost Bethany. As large a hole as it made in Hawke’s life to have lost her sister, the one person she could speak of love or desire for a normal life, for Bethany’s twin it had been the ripping away of half of his inseparable self. Hawke thought back to the first time they had really been away from each other for more than a night, when Carver had left for Ostagar to join the army to answer King Caillin’s call for troops. Bethany had tried to be brave, supportive of Carver. Mother had made it so much worse with tears and guilt and trying to beseech Carver into staying with them.

Now Bethany was gone, and Marion could not speak to Carver about it. He would bite his sister’s head off. So...

They were all lonely in their own way, even Gamlen, Hawke was forced to admit. A year, a whole year the Hawke family had been here, living with Uncle Gamlen, mother, Carver, and the dog crammed into Gamlen’s three room hole in Lowtown. Hawke had a friendly working relationship with half, no that would be exaggerating, one third of the scum of Lowtown. Athenril’s people were mostly from the Alienage and had no interest in her. Their tastes ran to slender Elvhen men and women. Marion’s did not.

Hawke was not certain herself what her taste actually did run to. She and Bethany had reached puberty in Lothering, where the stock of men tended to be farmers, templars, and travelers on the King’s highway. They had whispered about all manner of merchants who passed Lothering, suave Antivans, stalwart dwarves from Orzammar, very few Orlesians since they were still hated and distrusted. Carver had listened to their stories and fantasies until he couldn’t take them anymore and left them in peace. To be fair, he had rarely teased them, being hopelessly in love with Peaches, who lived in the village. 

The only visitors their family received were older men and women who were in correspondence with mother and father. Well, and the village folk, of course, but not usually the ones that were their own age. Since father taught them himself, they did not have the advantage of attending the Chantry school with others from the village. That brought it’s own problems, with some of the young men and women thinking the Hawke Family were Too Good to attend the Chantry school. 

Well, at least they had avoided the notice of the Templars. Even the good looking ones that had hordes of the local girls chasing them. And here, they had avoided the notice of the Templars in the Gallows. Well, Hawke had. Carver did not have to worry.

At least Carver had visited the Blooming Rose with some of the other smugglers. A risky proposition, since the Coterie owned the brothel through Harlan. Hawke felt queasy with the idea of paying for sex. It was not just that Jethan was creepy. Marion Hawke wanted something more.

Then Varric had come into their lives and things started changing. Varric was smooth, and Hawke found herself trusting him more and more as they worked toward the fifty gold sovereigns needed to become partners with his brother Bartrand for the Deep Roads expedition.

Hawke was partial to the dwarf. Varric was partial to his crossbow, Bianca. Well, that wouldn’t work out. And no, Hawke was not going to talk to Varric about loneliness or sex, or the lack thereof. Even if they had a closeness like that, Varric would put it in one of his books. 

For a while Hawke had thought about talking to Aveline about it. At first it was Wesley that kept her from discussing it. Then it was Donnic, who was handsome, strong, and totally in love with Aveline, even if the woman could not see it. No, Hawke felt it better to keep away from that whole mess.

Marion could hear Carver bickering behind here with the two new “recruits” she had picked up. And elf and another mage. She had never met an elf with such an air of command, so much power. He was so ridiculously good looking that she had a hard time not staring. And he despised her because of her magic. 

Occasionally Marion was able to coax a smile from Fenris, and it gave her a warm feeling at the pit of her stomach. Fenris’ eyes were so very green. He had agreed to travel with them, fight with them, in spite of his dislike of mages. Carver had had words with him, protecting his big sister. It was almost enough to make Marion feel fuzzy toward her tall, fighter brother. Who didn’t like mages much either, but he seemed to like Arguing with Fenris.

Enough about Fenris. Think about work. Now there were three mages she could use for jobs if she included herself. Merrill, the Dalish woman - Carver would never argue with her, he had a crush on Merrill, who was petite and pretty. Merrill had joined them when Hawke had returned the Dragon Woman’s amulet. Anders, a former Gray Warden who was tall, blonde, built well, and infested with a spirit of Justice. Eyes like honey, the good dark kind, when he was talking to her as himself. Ice blue when he was Justice. Anders was not someone she would ever have been able to speak to if life were normal, Marion would have been too shy. Here, though, in their little group, he seemed to listen when she spoke, to respect her power as a mage. And he was celibate. And did not drink. Because he was possessed. Also, Marion strongly suspected that his relationship with Karl Thekla had been more than just a friendship, although Anders had not said anything like that out loud. Bugger it! Or rather no buggering of anyone!

Finally there was Isabela who had offered to assist. Isabela had flattered and flirted with Marion. Hawke had not known exactly how to handle that. Women were not particularly attractive to her, but it felt good to have someone interested in her, even if it was obviously not a serious interest. Perhaps some day Hawke would feel comfortable with sex for sex sake, or desperately hungry for it, but until then, Isabela was not an option. At least not for Hawke. For now.

Well, it was settled then. Hawke leaned backward against the stone steps still ignoring Carver and the others. None of this group, no matter how Maker blessed attractive they were, would ever be interested in her. So she might as well set them up with others. No reason for everyone to be as lonely as she was.

First thing she needed to do was to get Carver and Merrill together. Because that would be easy. Who next? Aveline and Donnic. Fenris and, well, who was left? Anders, Varric, Isabela. Not Varric, he was taken. She had forgotten Bianca. Fenris hated mages. That left Isabela. Which left Anders all by his lonesome. Well, not lonesome, as he was always with Justice. Hmmm... that was something Hawke would have to work on.


	2. Carver and Merrill

Well, THAT had not worked out.

Carver had told her to mind her own business and to keep her big nose out of his … well, not affairs, but right, his BUSINESS! Her brother had said that he had enough to deal with among the Templars without Marion making things more complicated! 

What? Did she think he didn't have enough on his mind making sure that his sister, and Merrill, and Anders were warned when the patrols were out?

Carver then said he would be willing to fix Hawke up with some nice templars... and laughed hysterically afterward. Hawke had SO not appreciated his sense of humor.

Merrill... well, Merrill had told Hawke that she was Not Interested in Hawke’s brother, not that she disliked Carver, even now that he was a templar, but...

Startled, Hawke had tried to let Merrill down as gently as she’d have wanted. But then, nobody wants to be told that they are not attractive to the object of their desire. Do they?

It had not occurred to Hawke to look at Merrill in that fashion. Possibly she should have been warned by Merrill’s inordinate interest in Isabela’s dirty stories. Hawke cared about the little Dalish, but she lacked certain components that would contain Marion’s interest. Those components being Anders or Fenris. 

This was terrible. Nothing would ever work out. Not for her friends, and not for Hawke.


	3. Sleeping sound...

Wounded Coast. Yet again. It wasn’t that Fenris minded the place. Windy, abandoned pieces of caravans littering the sand and rock, it was free. Which is why the Tal Vashoth and just about everybody who wanted to get away with illegal activities haunted the area. Once again they were here making sure that the City Guard weren’t destroyed when they patrolled, and taking in a little of the bounty for “removing” bandits.

Fenris did not mind sleeping here in his bedroll overnight. No clouds, and plenty of stars meant cold weather, but his blankets and the fire were warm enough. At least as warm, if not warmer than his mansion, which tended to hold the cold. He was not certain why. Probably more Mage Mischief.

Now that they were settling down to sleep, this was the trial. Anders lay down first, this was almost a tradition, since the rest of the party were watching to see where he would sleep. Gray Wardens did not make good bedfellows, and the mage’s nightmares had woken them all more than once. So everyone tended to avoid sleeping near Anders. In fact they chose to sleep as far from him as possible.

Everyone except Hawke. Hawke was watching to see where Anders was so that she could sleep near him or next to him. Fenris was not certain as to whether it was to keep Anders from feeling alone or not. That action and thoughtfulness would have been like Hawke, certainly. 

Fenris had also noticed that Hawke’s reputation for flirtation was exaggerated. Within the party Hawke only flirted with him, and with Anders. Isabela was outrageously flirtatious with Marion Hawke, but their leader tended to make a joke deflecting the topic, or changed the subject outright and obviously. Fenris had also noticed the Merrill watched Hawke with huge, not quite worshipful eyes. Hawke treated the blood mage like a little sister. Fenris thought that Hawke might be younger than the Dalish woman, but still the caring big sister behavior was always a part of their interaction. Perhaps Hawke was simply acting as she would have with her lost mage sister Bethany. It must be quite irritating for the blood mage, thought Fenris smugly. In any case, that was a relationship that was closer than Fenris would have liked, but in no way …

In no way what? Sexual? Fenris had no right to judge. Hawke had asked him to stay the night, and he had turned her down. He had said no to protect Marion, Fenris knew that he would not be good for her. She deserved so much better than him, or Anders. It was not Fenris’ place, much as he wished it was, to make value judgements on possible partners for Marion Hawke. Other than Anders. Fenris just could not let that go.

Of course, it was his place to keep her safe. He was part of her band, and as such it was in Fenris’ purview to watch out for her. Which is why, when Anders settled himself for the night, and Hawke placed her bedroll to his right, out of the wind and next to a large boulder, Fenris settled himself directly in between them. They had left plenty of room. 

Anders sat up partially as Fenris was laying his bedroll on the sandy earth, resting on his elbows and looking at the elf, his mouth opening to ask the question on his face before thinking better of it. With that smirk that Fenris so disliked the mage had lain back down, staring up at the black sky above them before closing his eyes for sleep. 

Marion had smiled at him in startled pleasure. Fenris felt warm, in spite of the wind only partially shielded by the rock behind Hawke, and gave her a small smile. The grin it elicited was enough to make it difficult for him to sleep. Certainly he could not lie on his back now, too revealing. Rolling to his right side presented him with the view of Anders, already snoring gently. No. Rolling back, he could see the much more pleasing sight of Hawke, her eyes closed, hair tied back for the night, her blanket huddled tight around her. “Night, Fenris,” she said, her eyes still closed.

“Good night, Hawke,” he murmured quietly and closed his own eyes to try to sleep.

…

Sleep came, and was disturbed. Fenris was warm. That was welcome. The warmth came from Anders, who was curled up around him. That was unwelcome. As was Anders arm curved over Fenris’s waist. Even more unwelcome, Anders, still asleep, was grinding against Fenris in what was obviously not one of his Gray Warden nightmares. Fenris did not think that Anders was dreaming of him, confirmed by a quiet moan, “Marion!”

If Fenris moved away, he would be set tight up against Hawke. A pleasant enough thought, if not feasible. If he phased and killed the mage Hawke would be displeased. And they would be without a healer. Considering how often each of them was wounded by overwhelming odds, that would be a very bad thing. Perhaps Knight Captain Cullen would be willing to release one of the healers from the tower for Hawke’s use, Fenris thought sarcastically. That incongruousness, Anders continued rubbing of his heated erection against Fenris’s backside, and the foolish wish fluttering through his mind that he did not want to wake up Hawke, much less Isabela, Merrill, or Varric across the fire from them, kept Fenris from simply sitting up and shoving the mage away from him.

Fenris was beginning to feel … stimulated. He was not going to just let Anders rut on him until he came. He had to do something to stop all this. Rolling over onto his other side he leaned up on one arm to whisper in Anders ear, “Anders!” conveniently removing his body from the vicinity of Ander’s crotch.

“Marion?” breathed Anders, “aaand Fenris? Ooooh!” Fenris felt a rush of heat through his body at the lazy, lustful tone and the man was still asleep, what would it take to wake him up discretely? Did he even need to awaken him? Could Fenris move the man while asleep?

“Anders,” Fenris put what Isabela called ‘smoulder’ into his quiet tone, “Roll over for me, Anders!”

“mmm? Yes!” a joyful but mercifully quiet cry and Maker it was going to work, Anders shifted over onto his side, and instead of grinding his crotch against Fenris’s backside, it was Anders’ arse against Fenris unfortunately hardened groin. 

Fenris groaned before he could stop himself. Anders gave a little sigh and mumbled something followed by the distinct words, “Best dream ever!”

Moving carefully away, fending Anders off with one hand to his hip, Fenris almost bumped into Hawke behind him. No! He was not going to involve Hawke in this!

Anders meanwhile gave a final soft groan of release that transformed into relaxed awareness, “Oh, shit!” as he rolled forward.

Anders was awake! Fenris had jerked his hand away, closed his eyes, and pretended to even breathing. Anders flopped onto his back and still too close for comfort, and Fenris felt the beginnings of a spell. Lyrium lit up all over his body. Cursing softly Fenris sat up. No one would believe he had slept through that. “Mage!” the tone was accusatory.

Turning to look at him, Anders’ face was in shadow, but Fenris was lit up by the fire. “Why, Fenris? Whatever are you doing up,” the mage was laughing, “Up being the operant word...”

The mage was laughing at him. Fenris bridged his knees, hunched forward, the blanket covering his embarrassment. This could not possibly be worse.

“He’s on watch now,” came Isabela’s purr from a rock on the far side of the fire. 

Fenris cursed aloud in Tevene. Of course! And he knew better than to say something of that sort! He would not compound the error by thinking it again, or a horde of Qunari would show up. Fenris growled, “You were pushing me into Hawke. Move!”

Anders froze. Isabela’s voice came quietly clear and filled with glee across the fire, “I rather think, sweet thing, that you were pushing Anders in to Hawke instead.”

It took a moment for Fenris to parse what she was saying. With a growl he turned and laying his hands on his armor, began to put on the spikier bits as quietly as he could. He refused to look at Anders, or at Isabela, and his humiliation removed the unwanted erection near miraculously.

He looked, instead, at Hawke, in shadow from his body now, and curled up facing the rock, snoring slightly in her bedroll. Hawke could sleep through practically anything. Thank the Maker. Though Isabela would no doubt give her a highly colored retelling in the morning. What was worse - more of Isabela’s execrable Friend Fiction would appear chronicling this with the addition of the words pulsing, throbbing, and other descriptors too awful to think about.

Standing Fenris turned his gaze to Anders, who was now sitting with his head in hands. Prodding him with a foot, “Mage. You will share the watch with me,” it was as emotionless as Fenris could make it.

Anders lifted his head and nodded. Stiffly he stood, wrapped his blanket around his shoulders, and followed the elf to the spot that Isabela had appropriated, sitting against the large rock next to him, as Isabela slipped in between Merrill and Varric on their side of the fire with a happy sigh. Then, “Good night, boys!” there was laughter in it.


	4. Conversation

Silence. Fenris found himself thinking with amazement at how quietly all of this had transpired. He remembered Anders telling them once that mages learned to be silent in Kinloch Tower, but it had not occurred to Fenris exactly what that meant.

It was Anders that broke the silence, still quiet though, “I... I was surprised that you chose to sleep where you did. Between two mages.

Did you think I was going to use magic to seduce Hawke in her sleep?”

“No. Not with magic,” Fenris could be quiet as well.

“You think I would be seducing Hawke in the middle of the wilderness among the entire group of us? You must have a tremendous opinion of my skills as a villain,” Anders did not sound amused.

Fenris had nothing to say to that. Anders was a more than competent mage. Fenris thought Anders was also an idiot. An idiot who had surrendered his body to a demon from the Fade, and who refused to understand that mages, all mages, even Hawke, could be dangerous. Anders himself was dangerous, an abomination that could turn at any moment if pressured enough by the thing inside of him. Anders was lucky that he had these people, including Fenris himself, to protect him from what he could become. He had said most of these things before. Repeating them would change nothing. Anders did not listen to him.

Of course it would be Anders who would break the silence again, “Did I...? What did I say in my sleep? I know I talk. The Gray Wardens used to chaff me about it.”

“You...” Fenris was uncertain about the advisability of talking with Anders since the reason he had told him to share watch was to keep him away from Hawke, “You called out Hawke’s name. When I tried to get you to wake up you...” Fenris tried to swallow silently, “said my name. Then ‘best dream ever’...”

Anders leaned his head back against the stone and laughed near silently. “Well, it was a pretty good dream.

Oh, come on Fenris. You can’t tell me you never have dreams like that!”

Fenris said quietly, “I do not dream that I can remember. I am thankful for it.”

“Well,” Anders was himself again, “Mostly I try not to. But since Darkspawn dreams are a way of listening in to their plans, I don’t have that choice. Gray Wardens and all.

Still, a wet dream is better than having to fight darkspawn or demons all night long. At the very least I was not dreaming about having sex with Meredith or Orsino!”

“No,” it was sour, “You were dreaming about Hawke.”

“And you,” it was a poke, “Let’s not forget that you were in the dream too!”

Fenris rose to the bait, “Only after I tried to wake you up! Or are you saying I’ve been... you’re not saying that you have had dreams about having sex with me?”

“The subconscious is a strange thing,” Anders grinned, “I think I’ve had dreams about you, about Isabela, and about Hawke. And about that nice young man who helps Lady Elegant in the market place. There’s nothing wrong with sex, Fenris. At least for most people.”

“It’s wrong for you, then?” Fenris was curious as to why Anders had not seduced Hawke.

“Justice doesn’t understand it. What Justice sees as unnecessary is...” Anders trailed off.

“A distraction. You’ve said before at the Hanged Man that Justice does not like for you to drink. It is your body, not his,” Fenris could not help himself, “He...IT controls you.”

“What would you suggest I do about it, hmm?” Anders sounded tired.

Fenris had not thought about it. His reactions had been purely to what Anders was. “Surely there is some Circle that would be able to assist you.”

“Any Circle that found out about Justice would perform the Rite of Tranquility. Without a doubt, unless they hung me first. Then performed the Rite before committing me to the Pyre. Fenris,” Anders chided, “Do you really think a Templar from any Circle would *help* me?

You know, Fenris, Suicide is a crime against the Maker. If I turn myself over for Tranquility, it would be committing suicide. If I turn myself over to be hanged, it would be the same. “

“Mage, how can you, of all people, speak of crimes against the Maker. After what the mages have done to the Maker’s city?” Fenris scoffed.

Anders glared at the Elf, “And still, he does not get it. Magic is a GIFT from the Maker, Fenris. A gift. It says that in the Canticles. What those magisters did is not what I will do. Not what Hawke will do. Not what the majority of mages over the course of Thedas history have done.

Being a mage does not stop one from being Andrastean.

It just stops people from believing you have the same needs and rights as every other follower of the Maker.”

“Leave Hawke out of this,” Fenris replied heatedly, “Hawke is not you!”

“So you think that just I should be killed?” Anders clapped softly, “How hypocritical of you.

Is this because you’re in love with Hawke? You give her the benefit of the doubt that she will not turn into a Tevinter Mage?”

“No!” Fenris controlled himself, “Hawke’s weakness is her friendships. Just as your weakness is the demon who has possessed you. Merrill’s is her pride.

I... I will support Hawke in any way I can to prevent her becoming an abomination.”

“You believe that? That Hawke is weakened by us, instead of made more powerful?” Anders was astonished.

“How can you believe otherwise? Each one of us endangers Hawke. Except perhaps for Varric, now that the Deep Roads expedition is over. And who knows what Varric’s involvement with the Coterie and the Carta will cause Hawke?” Anders’ expression stopped Fenris from going on, but the mage spoke.

“Please go on,” came from a face of stone.

“Merrill is a blood mage playing with forces she does not understand. At least say that you agree with me on that?” Fenris posited.

“It is probably one of the few things I do agree with you about. A face of virginal innocence with the visage of a demon behind it. Merrill is not safe for Hawke to associate with,” Anders looked expectantly at Fenris.

Fenris knew what the mage was waiting for, and gave it to him, “You are different from Merrill in what way?”

“I am not a BLOOD mage,” Anders could not contain the exasperation, “Maker, Fenris, there *is* a difference!”

“You willingly took a spirit from the Fade into your body,” Fenris argued, “It is only a matter of time before Merrill does so as well. 

As for her blood magic, Merrill uses only her own blood in sacrifice. Again, only a matter of time until something becomes so important that she will accept the use of others’ blood to achieve a cherished goal,” Fenris hoped he was making his point clearly, “Where you over-extend yourself constantly in your …no, not even your quest, Justice’s quest to bring freedom to the mages here.

You weaken yourself constantly, whether it is to heal for Hawke, or to attempt to save the refuse in Darktown. You give your food to the poor. You do not sleep, up at all hours writing. Did you think none of us have noticed these things? How can you say that you will be able to withstand Justice’s demands if they go wrong, how will you fight against a Pride demon, if you can barely stand at the end of a day. I’ve seen it. 

Hawke is… concerned.

And like Merrill, when will you say that anything is worth your own cherished goal? Who will you sacrifice in your crusade? Will it be Hawke?

Will it be someone less important to you? Someone like me? Or Merrill, who like Carver and I, does not agree with your courses of action?”

“NO!” it was a shout.

Anders looked at the still sleeping members of the party, even as the echo faded. “No. Any sacrifice will be mine to make,” the mage looked strained, but his voice was again quiet.

“You will give your life for your cause,” Fenris said sarcastically, “Without taking a single other being down with you? Because that will make what sort of change”

Anders took a deep breath before replying, “Other than Templars?” and he essayed a smile, “I do not plan to do anything to anyone other than those who harm mages and innocents.”

“Carver Hawke? Knight Captain Cullen?” Fenris dropped those names into the mix, emphasizing Marion’s brother’s shared name.

“Maker and Andraste, Fenris,” Anders spat out, “I don’t plan on harming any of our people!”

Fenris looked at the fire, “We never do. Not of OUR people. And yet Hawke took a burn from that mage’s fireball when the slavers tried to take me in the Alienage. When we went to rescue your friend Karl Marion was stabbed by that Mage Hunter with the Templars.”

Anders banged his head back against the solid stone, “Void, Fenris, I can’t just do nothing! YOU can’t just do nothing! Bad things are coming, and we can NOT just HIDE from them!

Do you have any idea what an evil filthy place Kirkwall is? It’s like a battery for blood magic! So many deaths! The veil is thin here. It’s worse than Kinloch Tower! Worse than any place I have been, even the Deep Roads!

Someone has to do something to try to stem the tide, and that is what Hawke’s been doing, I think without knowing it. I would spare her if I could, but pretending that things will get better without us doing something … it’s almost as bad as saying, ‘I’ll just wait for someone else to take care of it’.”

“And so you follow Justice’s orders, work yourself to death, argue with me, and dream of Hawke,” Fenris responded.

“And you,” Anders pointed out.

“Yes,” came Fenris deep voice, “But you’re not in love with me.”

“No,” that was a small voice, a very small voice, and it left Fenris unsure of whether Anders was denying his love of Hawke, or agreeing that the mage did not love him.


End file.
